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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25068283">Santa Barbara's First (and Last) Policemen Ball</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousflavor/pseuds/deliciousflavor'>deliciousflavor</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousflavor/pseuds/NSF'>NSF (deliciousflavor)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Canon? Isn't that a camera or something? [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Psych (TV 2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But What's New There, Carlytown is a raging Pansexual, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Internalized Homophobia, It's kinda like prom trope but not, Little bit of angst, M/M, Making Out, Oh you guys and your trust issues, Shawn is an insecure overconfident bisexual trainwreck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:14:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25068283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousflavor/pseuds/deliciousflavor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousflavor/pseuds/NSF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out policemen do have balls. When the Santa Barbara Police Department starts getting a bad reputation for being hostile to civilians, they must put together a fun, family-friendly event that’s live to the public. The solution? A space-themed ball, prom, dance thing... Shawn attempts to seduce Carlton to The Killers. Gus fights for Pluto's honor. Juliet... well she just hopes that her boys won't end up making a scene in front of all of Santa Barbara. Chief Vick is counting on her team to set an example tonight. The good thing? It won't be forever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Burton "Gus" Guster/Juliet O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Canon? Isn't that a camera or something? [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Santa Barbara's First (and Last) Policemen Ball</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am so happy to finally get this one out to you all. I got the idea a few weeks ago when I read a friend's prom/dance trope fanfiction for another series. I immediately knew I wanted to write a policeman ball. Thank you to everyone who has been so patient since my last writing, but has expressed interest. I really hope that this has been worth the wait for you. If you're just now reading one of my fics, welcome, and thank you for reading. You don't have to read 'This Picnic is a Safe Space', but it is a prequel of sorts to this and is hinted at a few times. This can absolutely be read by itself, though. Please, enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He is late. Of course. What is Carlton expecting?</p><p>Shawn Spencer only ever makes a timely appearance when his presence is not wanted.  Now, as he parks outside of the Psych office, Lassiter is suddenly regretting his decision to agree to pick up Spencer for the Policeman Ball. If the psychic doesn't come out in the next five minutes, they'll be late, and Vick will have his head. </p><p>He debates calling the man one more time. He already sent a text warning Spencer that he was on his way, and he would be arriving in fifteen minutes. Carlton then sent another message once he was in the parking lot of the building where Spencer and Guster conduct their version of detective work. He let the man know that he is here and he is waiting. Not for long. </p><p>After another song fades to an end on Carlton's car stereo, he picks up his phone and dials Spencer's contact. The line rings for a maddening three tones before a voice comes through. </p><p>"Lassie! There you are, but where are you?" </p><p>Lassiter's fingers clench tighter around the steering wheel as he hears accusations in the psychic's voice. </p><p>"What do you mean, 'where am I'? Where the hell are you? I specifically said that I was fifteen minutes away over twenty minutes ago. I'm right here parked out front, but you know what's not out front? You. And if you don't get out that door within the next fifteen seconds, I will leave you here." </p><p>There's a beat of silence before Shawn responds. </p><p>"Lassie, where exactly are you parked out front?"</p><p>"There's only one definition of front, Spencer, and I swear to God if you don't get there, I-" </p><p>"Technically, there are fourteen. Fifteen if you count the exclamation. Second, I mean, which building are you parked in front of?" </p><p>Carlton massages his forehead. "The only building that has 'psych' plastered all over it, Spencer. Now, are you done playing twenty questions, or are you hellbent on ruining both of our reputations with the Chief, tonight?" </p><p>"...Ohhh, Lassie... I thought I told you that you're picking me up at my place. Remember?" </p><p>The detective already places his car into reverse before he realizes something. "You never told me that, Spencer. I don't even know where you live." </p><p>Shawn is quick to defend himself. "That's not true! I know for sure that I texted you my address today. Followed by a text saying, 'here's my address. Don't 4get 2 pick me up @ 8 xoxo'. </p><p>"Oh... yeah. That." Lassiter makes a face, recalling the text. He hates being wrong when it comes to Spencer. "You better be on the curb when I get there, Spencer. You have ten seconds to get in and get buckled, or you're stuck taking a taxi. Got it?" </p><p>He doesn't wait for Spencer to say anything back; Lassiter ends the call and navigates through his text history to find his associate's address. He peels out of the parking lot and towards Shawn's residence. </p><p>A few minutes later, Lassiter pulls up to see Spencer sitting on the curb, bouncing his knee and tapping his feet. Shawn is dressed in a shiny, not gaudy silver suit with black, leather dress shoes. He ties the look together with a black constellation themed bowtie. On his ear is a single, resin earring of a moon. Lassiter won't admit that he looks a little longer than intended.  If Spencer notices, he doesn't say anything. </p><p>Instead, the man climbs into the passenger seat, straps himself in and sneaks a glance over to Lassiter before settling down. </p><p>When the silence becomes a little suspicious and out of character, Carlton is the first to break the silence. They're at a red light when he finally turns to get a full look at the psychic since he entered the car. He squints towards Spencer's earlobe for a moment.</p><p>"Is that an earring?"</p><p>Shawn seems to come alive at being directly spoken to. His posture becomes less rigid, and he smiles for the first time during the whole ride. When he turns to address Lassiter, his eyes shine from the moonlight streaming through the detective's driver's side window. </p><p>"It's fake. Just a clip-on. I got it from Claire's." </p><p>Carlton blinks. Not the strangest place Spencer shops at. </p><p>"Why are you dressed like a can of Pepsi," Shawn asks and Lassiter's cheeks, ears, and neck feel hot with his indignation. "The ball is space-themed, Lassie. C'mon have some spirit. Unless you're a space Pepsi. Or a Pepsi from space." </p><p>"I am not a space Pepsi, Spencer." He straightens up in his seat, feeling self-conscious. "I'm not any type of Pepsi. I'm dressed based on the logo for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration." </p><p>"So you're going as NASA's icon? Even for a fun event, you have to be a part of some type of authority." Shawn shrugs. "Could've fooled me. The dark blue, horizontal striped suit and the red tie just make me thirsty." </p><p>There's a range of silence before anyone speaks next. </p><p>"Well, since I have to explain it to you, Spencer my attire is actually very festive. The horizontal stripes simulate the orbital path; the red tie is the red chevron. Even my handkerchief has little stars on it; you cannot tell me that I am not getting in spirit when I have put actual money into purchasing a handkerchief that is not a solid color." </p><p>"We're not talking about cars, right now, Lassie. We're talking about your Space Pepsi suit," Spencer says. "But consider me wrong, since you do have a point about your hanky."</p><p>Lassiter's face screws up into a look of irritated disbelief and bafflement at how confused Spencer is and has made him in result. "I never said anything about a car. And would you quit calling it that! I just gave you a very thorough explanation of my choices, and I won't repeat myself because you have zero listening comprehension skills." </p><p>"It's called ADD, Carlytown. I'd say you should try having it some time, but you really don't want to. Besides, you lost me at chevron. Unless someone skipped the spiked punch for their own spirits, I'm pretty sure that nobody, but yourself, believes that tie looks like a car." </p><p>That explains it. </p><p>"Not a Chevy, Shawn. A chevron. It's a v-shaped, inverted mark," Carlton explains. "Which is why your little Pepsi joke holds no water. There isn't a chevron in the Pepsi logo." </p><p>"No, but there is a smile." Shawn takes this opportunity to give a toothy grin to the detective. The corners of Lassiter's lips pull up a little on impulse before he purposefully deepens his frown and sucks in his cheeks. He only starts to breathe again when the traffic signal changes to green.</p><p> </p><p>That was the longest red light in the history of organized traffic. </p><p>They arrive at the convention hall a few minutes after eight-thirty. The lights on the large building are all green to fit the space theme. From the distance, the center probably looks like an alien ship or a rocket. Lassiter parks in a reserved parking spot and quickly exits the vehicle. Shawn follows right after him, smoothing down his suit and coming up to join the head detective's side. </p><p>"Do you want to link arms and walk in together like we're already Prom King and Queen," Spencer asks, and Carlton scans his face for sincerity. </p><p>"I would rather vote Democrat and support gun control." </p><p>Guess that's a hard pass. </p><p>"You know, as a supporter of justice, I would expect you to be all for getting guns out of potential criminal's hands." Shawn meets Lassiter's hurried stride. Damn, the man always walks like he's on the way to a crime scene. </p><p>"That has nothing to do with taking away my right to bear arms," Lassiter argues. </p><p>"And that has nothing to do with anything I said or what the legislation is saying, but okay Lassie. You can keep your eleven living room guns. You're safe." </p><p>"You're damn right I can." </p><p>Shawn has been so busy trying to understand Lassiter's special thought process, that he doesn't even see the curb that he trips over. Carlton, with quick reflexes, grips Spencer's elbow in the crook of his own and keeps the man from toppling forward. </p><p>He stops and gives the psychic a glance of concern before the heat returns to his voice. He pulls Spencer in closer with a death grasp. "Try focusing more on running your legs rather than your mouth, next time." </p><p>"Aw, Carlton- Shawn. Look at you two, holding each other's elbows like that. I'm so glad that you two are putting your differences aside for the good of the department." The voice belongs to Juliet O'Hara; she's here with her ball partner, Burton Guster. </p><p>"I know right," Shawn speaks up, leaning his head into Carlton's arm for a moment and patting the man's forearm. "It was his idea. He really wants to make a good impression and show the level of teamwork and camaraderie that the Santa Barbara Police Department is all about." </p><p>"I did not-" Lassiter is about to explain the situation when Gus comments on Shawn's outfit. </p><p>"You must be the rouge disco ball that they've been looking everywhere for." </p><p>"I am the Moon, Gus. Thus the silvery shine of my suit and my earring." Shawn shows him the clip-on while speaking, still having Lassiter's arm linked in his. </p><p>"Aww, that's really creative, Shawn." Juliet turns to her partner and gives a blink and a nod. "And... Carlton- you look... very patriotic." </p><p>Carlton rolls his eyes; next to him, Shawn starts anew with the beverage comments. "Patriotic and satisfyingly fizzy." </p><p>The detective growls under his breath. "I'd thank you on just about any other occasion, O'Hara, but I'm supposed to look very much like the logo of NASA." </p><p>"Oh." </p><p>"I can see it, Lassie," Gus speaks up from beside his flustered dance date. "Are the stripes supposed to be the orbital path?" </p><p>"Thank you, Guster. They are." Lassiter uses his free hand to smooth his tie down. </p><p>"And is your tie the chevron?" </p><p>"Why, yes it is." He smirks towards the man whose arm he's linked with. "See, Spencer? No one else, but you, believes that I am dressed like a Space Pepsi." </p><p>"I do have one question, though, " Gus speaks up, quirking an eyebrow. "What do the polka-dots on your handkerchief represent? They kind of clash with the stripes." </p><p>Lassiter's face falls and beside him, Shawn snickers. </p><p>"They're stars, Mr. Guster." </p><p>"See, that's why I thought patriotic! Stars, flag colors, c'mon." Juliet immediately explains her reasoning. Gus nods in understanding. </p><p>"So far you're a tall can of Space Pepsi, the American flag, and Astronaut Dippin' Dots, Lassie. But no NASA logo." </p><p>"Shut up, Spencer, " Carlton snaps before stealthily tucking the star handkerchief deeper into his blazer pocket. "What are you two supposed to be?" </p><p>"Well, I'm the red planet, Mars." Juliet gestures to her scarlet dress and heels. Her make-up even has touches of orange and red. She has two bracelets on with each of the Martian moons. "And these are my satellites, Phobos and Deimos." </p><p>Gus grins proudly at his partner as she explains.</p><p>"Never heard of them. I've only had Cox and Direct TV." </p><p>"Shawn, satellites are what we call our moon. They're small bodies of matter that orbit a planet, " Gus corrects his friend. </p><p>"Why didn't you just call them moons, then?" </p><p>"Because there's only one moon, Shawn. Our moon." </p><p>"But Jules just said she has moons. Phoebe and Diana." </p><p>"Phobos and Deimos." </p><p>"I've heard it both ways." </p><p>"Oh for the love of Mike. Guster, would you please just tell us what you are, so we can leave this conversation behind immediately?" Lassiter's patience is running very thin. They haven't even entered the venue yet. The event ends in three hours; that doesn't include cleanup. </p><p>"Gladly. I'm Pluto. You can tell by my cream-colored suit and maroon accents." </p><p>With the way that no one reacts, it is clear that nobody could tell. Then, in unison, they all nod and vocalize some amount of agreement. </p><p>"That's messed up." Gus knows he just got a pity consensus.  </p><p>"Okay, now that that's over with, can we please just get inside before the Chief issues a BOLO on us?" Lassiter tugs his arms in closer, forgetting the psychic hooked around one of them. He doesn't wait for an answer and ends up practically dragging Shawn to the entrance. </p><p>Gus holds Juliet's arm in his, gently, before also proceeding to the event hall. </p><p>Once the group enters, they are immediately hit with a display of constellations reaching high above their heads. The foyer is mainly dark and illuminated only by the projections and little green tea lights leading to the doors of the auditorium. </p><p>"Woah. The department really went all out with this, huh?" Shawn gapes around at the smoke that's creating an ambiance of extraterrestrial activity. </p><p>Even Lassiter is a little impressed. He notices a band that arches in an oval shape outward. The detective squints at the tiny sphere attached to the bend. Then, he chuckles and shoots a glance over to his shoulder to the couple behind them. </p><p>"Hey look, Guster. It's you." Carlton points out the lone dwarf planet. </p><p>Gus lunges towards the detective while his back is turned, and Juliet only barely tries to discourage him. </p><p>Shawn opens the door for his ball partner and holds it ajar for his best friend and co-worker. A bit of smoke travels out before the team gets to take in the view. </p><p>It's like the convention hall has turned into a gigantic planetarium. The entire ceiling is filled with stars. Below that, a Solar System chandelier shines above their heads. Some balloons are made to look like satellites and orbital telescopes. The food and drink station looks like a hollowed-out space shuttle. Everyone is dressed either like a Star Trek character, an alien, or an astronaut. There are a few stars and one flat Earth, but overall everyone seems to be enjoying the theme and themselves. </p><p>"There you are, " Chief Vick's voice comes from somewhere and they all turn towards it like a four-headed Cerberus. "I was about to think you all assumed I meant that we were actually going to a space station." </p><p>"Chief, that is ridiculous. Everyone knows that it takes a lot of specialized training and education to go aboard a spaceship." Shawn earns a half-amused glare from Vick. </p><p>"It also takes a lot of training and knowledge to become a detective, but you seem to disregard that anyway, " Lassiter snarks to Shawn. </p><p>"Lassie, it takes a longer time to become a cosmetologist than to become an officer. And a lot more familiarity working with other people."</p><p>Carlton glowers at the psychic but says nothing more. </p><p>"Might I say, Chief, you're looking absolutely radiant, " Shawn compliments the chief of police who is dressed in a golden pantsuit dress combo. Clearly resembling the Sun.</p><p>"Thank you, Mr. Spencer. Now, around the ten-thirty mark, I expect you all to be up on stage with the rest of us to announce the department's donation to the local after-school programs. Remember, you are to hold the check and smile. Carlton, I assume you have your speech written and with you. If not, we have a copy, just let us know." </p><p>Lassiter nods in the affirmative to Chief Vick. He pulls out the handkerchief, stuffs it into his pocket, and takes out a neatly folded piece of paper. He holds the slip between his index and pointer fingers and shows it to the Chief of Police. "Right here, Chief."</p><p>"Very good." Chief Vick shoots a glance over the detective's shoulder. "Give me a moment. Well longer than a moment. I think the flat earth girl is starting an altercation with the geocentric conspiracist. You all have fun, but not too much fun." </p><p>The Chief briskly walks away, and the group of four exchange glances at each other. </p><p>"Who wants to go get group pictures as the crew from Apollo 11?" Shawn gestures to the cardboard cut-out display that has four astronauts with hollowed-out holes in place of their heads. </p><p>Carlton quirks an eyebrow. "Weren't there only three astronauts on that mission?" </p><p>"I thought there were two. Lightyear and Armstrong?" </p><p>"Lightyear," Lassiter repeats while looking quizzically down to the man who he's still hooked onto.</p><p>Gus tsks and shakes his head, hitting Shawn's shoulder lightly. "He means Aldrin. Buzz Aldrin. Buzz Lightyear is the character from the animated movie, Toy Story, Shawn." </p><p>"Anyways, Lassie's right," Gus says, looking critical of the display. "There were only three astronauts on the Apollo 11 mission: Aldrin, Armstrong, and Collins. That cut-out is completely unrealistic." </p><p>Shawn groans and throws his head back like a petulant child. "Wanna know what else is unrealistic? This conversation and the fact that I'm caught in the middle of it. Now, can we just put logic aside for one dang night and get some pictures taken on the moon like we're good friends?" </p><p>Everyone looks at Spencer. After a chorus of agreements and shrugs, the four colleagues head off to the display. </p><p> </p><p>A photoshoot and a round of solar flare fireball whiskey shots later, Gus and Lassiter wait for their dates to finish getting freshened up in the convention hall bathrooms. Lassiter clutches Shawn's drink tightly in one hand; his palm is pressed into the rim of the cup. He looks down at his shoes, wiping away a piece of confetti. He's going to have to inspect the leather for glitter later. </p><p>Gus takes another sip of his drink before looking over to Lassiter. "You know, if you wrap some tape around your hand and pat at your clothes, it takes the glitter out better than warm water and a cloth. I had to learn that after Shawn decided to unleash our New Years' supplies ten months early." </p><p>Carlton looks over at Shawn's best friend. For someone so intelligent, well-read, and extremely mannered, Gus sure knew how to pick a lifelong partner. He always wonders what keeps the man around. Then he'll witness just how often Spencer has Guster's back, and he realizes that he just never had the same himself. Lassiter gives a small grin towards Guster. </p><p>"How long did it take to clean that up," Carlton asks as he stares into Shawn's cup for a moment, before realizing that the drink isn't his. He's the designated driver. </p><p>"Too long," Gus says snippily. "I couldn't save my shirt; the damage was too extensive. I was too close to the impact." </p><p>Lassiter nods thoughtfully. "Spencer left you to do it all on your own?" </p><p>"Of course. And, when he complained about the vacuum being broken, I told him that's what happens when you try to pick up gallons of glitter with a filter the size of an Eggo mini-waffle." </p><p>"Gallons of glitter?" Lassiter's face scrunches up in confusion. "What the hell does that have to do with New Years?" </p><p>"Shawn was thinking of filling a disco ball with glitter and dropping it in the middle of the bullpen," Gus admits, feeling a sort of camaraderie with the head detective. They both know firsthand how mischievous and annoying Spencer can be. </p><p>"Like hell, he will," Carlton says, clenching a fist. </p><p>"Like hell, I will what, Lassie-space?" Shawn's voice floats from the side as Lassiter looks over to their respective ball partners. Juliet grins towards Lassiter before taking a seat between himself and Gus. </p><p>Carlton rolls his eyes once more. That's a new nickname. Hopefully, it's a temporary one. He will drag Spencer by the ear the next time he tries it outside of this context. Outside of this room. </p><p>"Get another one of those sunrise spiked punches. I don't want you puking in my car; I just had it deep-cleaned," Carlton answers Spencer as he hands the man over his closely-guarded drink. </p><p>Shawn pouts and whines. "Awwww, but Lassie that's the only drink that has pineapple in it." </p><p>"I don't care, Spencer. When you go home you're more than welcome to have all the pineapple drinks you want, but you aren't having another alcoholic beverage until you're in your own place of residence. Understood?"</p><p>"You're so mean," Spencer grumbles before taking another drink from his cup. The smell of pineapple, oranges, and rum fills the air between the two men seated next to each other. </p><p>"I'm your ride," Carlton says matter-of-factly, pressing his lips together. He pats Spencer's hand on his shoulder. </p><p>Shawn makes a move to hold the detective's hand and Lassiter easily laces his fingers in between the psychic's. For a moment, there's a delightful hum from the man, and Shawn leans into Carlton's arm. </p><p>A second later, Lassiter realizes they're in public. They're right next to their respective work partners, and this is not the place or time that Lassiter wants people to find out about him and Spencer. </p><p>He withdraws his hand and places it in his lap, clutching at the fabric of his suit pants. </p><p>He can practically feel Spencer's disappointed eyes on him. He can hear the questions he'll ask later; he'll have to face the underlying insecurity that Spencer hides behind poking at Lassiter's own flaws. Carlton tries to look anywhere but at the psychic. His eyes scan the clock. It's almost time for the speech. </p><p>Lassiter clears his throat and straightens his tie before getting up from his seat. "I'll be back." </p><p>Carlton breezes past Shawn, squeezing the man's forearm in a quick pinch. He barely glances back at the psychic before disappearing behind the corner where the men's room is. </p><p>"Don't be upset, Shawn. Lassiter's like that with everyone who he lets in his car. To be fair, the department has been a little more particular about what they're considering as being budget-covered cleanings." Juliet gives Shawn a little pat on the back. </p><p>"Oh, I know, Jules," Shawn says flippantly with a small grin. He brings his cup to his lips again. "Lassie's just grumpy he can't have any of the tacky space-themed drinks. Who can blame him?" </p><p>Gus speaks up at this moment. "I can't. This blue planet cocktail is a lot more coconut than blueberry, but it's fully satisfying." </p><p>Shawn just smiles amusingly at his best friend before clapping a hand on Gus' shoulder and standing up. "You enjoy that, bud. I've gotta run to the little psychic's room."</p><p>Juliet glances over to Gus with a raised eyebrow and a scan of Shawn's retreating form. </p><p>"Did you really tell Lassiter about the disco ball plan," Juliet asks, turning to her ball partner. </p><p>Gus gawks. "How did you know?" </p><p>"It was the look in his eyes like he's about to make sure that every last shop that sells disco balls gets caught for money laundering or something," the woman admits with a sparkle in her eye. She knows her boys.</p><p>The man nods, "Yeah he did look pretty determined to make sure Shawn's plan falls through." </p><p>Gus continues, a sip later, "You think he ever found out that the glitter rain from last New Years' was Shawn's plan?" </p><p>"As far as I know, he dropped the subject after Vick found him shoving a drone up into the vents to check for 'evidence of glitter projectiles.' I'm sure he eventually figured it out. I mean... how can't you? It had Shawn written all over it." </p><p>Meanwhile, Shawn is writing himself all over Carlton's neck; the detective's top buttons are open, revealing a red mark right where the collar flips to cover it. Lassiter's heart is pounding, watching the door with unwavering surveillance. Any moment now, any one of their colleagues from the station could walk in and see Spencer and Lassiter tangled in each other's arms. They'd lay witness to the high-school dramedy that is their complicated something-without-a-name. Then, Carlton would have to shoot them. </p><p>"Hey- is that door the one sinking its teeth into you right now or am I?" Shawn's voice is riddled with impatience and genuine jealousy. Carlton has to spare him a glance of pity. </p><p>"You are. Even when nobody asked you to," Lassiter, runs his hands down the man's arms and grips him, gently pushing him away. Shawn makes a sound that resembles a whine. "I thought we had an agreement, Spencer. Hand holding is one thing. Kissing in the sanctity of our own homes is another. But this- this is way out of line." </p><p>"Kissing... in a locked bathroom... behind numerous doors and walls away from prying, public eyes is way out of line?" Shawn looks at the head detective like he's being completely unreasonable. </p><p>Carlton shakes his head and buttons up his shirt, fixing his skewed tie. "This is still a public place, Spencer, and that door doesn't lock." </p><p>"I mean we could always go into a stall," Shawn offers and Carlton glares sharply at him. </p><p>"Oh sure, that's just how I imagined kissing you- in a piss-smelling, bacteria-infested men's restroom of an over-crowded convention hall." Carlton's tone is sharp, but Shawn sees the truth behind his words. </p><p>The man's eyes light up as he looks up at Lassiter. A playful smirk dances on the edge of his lips. "You imagine kissing me?" </p><p>Lassiter stutters for a moment, face red and hands caught. </p><p>"Awwww! Lassie's got a crush on me. Lassie's got a cru-ush. Lassie's got a cru-ush." Shawn starts singing his little revelation until Carlton claps a hand to his mouth. </p><p>"Are you finished," Lassiter inquires with a growl, his palm still curled tightly over Spencer's face, restricting movement and sound. </p><p>Shawn appears to consider the question before he shakes his head, and Carlton keeps his hand over the psychic's mouth, unimpressed. </p><p>Suddenly, they both hear the sound of someone heading towards the bathroom and without another word, Carlton yanks the man back into a stall. He perches himself on top of the toilet seat, holding Shawn with the man's back to his chest and his lips still covered. </p><p>Then Pluto starts calling for them by name. </p><p>"Shawn? Shawn, are you in here?" Gus looks around the bathroom briefly. "Nobody can find Lassiter and the speech is going to start soon, so if you're in here hurry up so we can find Lassie and get this over with."</p><p>With a stroke of terrible luck, Carlton's phone rings right then. It's unmistakable; the COPS theme rings loudly against the walls of the stall. Shawn looks up at his boyfriend with a disappointed glance. Good luck getting out of this one. </p><p>"Lassiter? You in here?" Gus comes closer to the stall where they're currently huddled. Carlton curses under his breath and grasps his boyfriend's jaw tighter when he attempts to make a suggestion. </p><p>Lassiter takes a breath. "What in God's name do you want, Guster? Can't you see I'm a little busy here? I'll be out there soon." </p><p>Gus makes an irritated face to the closed stall and then lunges before turning on his heel to walk out. "Whatever, I'll tell Chief Vick to give you another five minutes." </p><p>Then, Shawn's phone rings. </p><p>Gus stops walking. </p><p>Lassiter stops breathing. </p><p>Shawn starts answering. </p><p>"Hey Jules, yeah, no everything is fine. I know where Lassie is," he answers her questions, calmly. Carlton is between throwing Spencer against the wall, busting his head open on the toilet, or mashing his mouth with the psychic just to make him stop talking for once. </p><p>"Oh, they're serving a several-layer Earth cake for dessert, huh? Well, that sounds lovely. I gotta go now, Jules. Okay. See you out there. Uh-huh. Bye." </p><p>It's only now, in the stunned silence afterward, that Lassiter realizes some time along the way he had stopped keeping Shawn's mouth closed. He looks to the man, then to the door and the pair of shoes frozen in front of it. He sighs in a resigned manner. </p><p>"What's your plan," Lassiter hisses into Shawn's ear threateningly. </p><p>"Follow my lead. Try not to look so mortified." Shawn brushes a hand across the arm that holds him tightly to the detective's chest. He pats it two times before Lassiter slowly lets him go and Shawn's feet hit the floor. </p><p>"Shawn?" Gus looks confused as his best friend steps out of a stall. There's dried drool on the side of his mouth from having his face held for such a long time. </p><p>"Gus! Hey, buddy. What're you doing here?" Shawn blocks Gus' view of the stall, inconspicuously. </p><p>"Looking for you. And Lassiter. I could have sworn I just heard him, but that's not possible since you're the only one in here." </p><p>"Not quite true. Lassie and I were just practicing his speech. He wants to make sure that he keeps a good handle on those wild cartoonish expressions and maintains the town's decline in the suicide rate."  </p><p>Lassiter makes a face from behind the stall wall. Is that his queue? </p><p>"Lassie, come out here and assure Gus that everything is alright and you're ready to deliver the best speech this part of Santa Barbara has ever seen." </p><p>"Heard," Lassiter corrects harshly. </p><p>"Heard," Shawn parrots. </p><p>Carlton hangs his head in his hands as he slowly gets down from the toilet. He opens the stall door and walks out to be beside Shawn. "That's right, Shawn- Uhm, Spencer, was just reviewing my notes with me." </p><p>"I see," Gus looks over to Shawn. The need for a talk later is clear in the man's eyes. "Well, you two better wrap whatever this is up, soon. If you aren't out there in the next couple of minutes it's your heads that Chief Vick will have; not mine." </p><p>Lassiter doesn't say another word, focusing on the sink as the sound of Guster's footsteps echo away from them and the door thuds shut. As soon as they're alone again, Carlton grabs Shawn by the front of his shirt and slams him into the wall. </p><p>"What the fuck was that, Spencer? Were you even trying not to get caught?" Carlton shakes the man as he speaks, his voice heated with embarrassment at what just occurred. </p><p>"Look- it would've looked even more suspicious if we just stayed silent. He knew we were in there, Carlytown. Gus can be a little naive at times, and a bit clouded- but he isn't stupid. Don't let the 'only one in here' comment fool you." Shawn defends himself, hissing sharply when his back makes an impact with the wall once more. </p><p>"Who the hell practices a speech in a locked stall together? Monitoring my facial expressions? I shouldn't have expected anything more from a guy who pulls everything out of his ass." Lassiter closes in on Shawn, growling. "I told you that doing things like this in public isn't worth it, Spencer. People talk- and-" </p><p>"And- Gus isn't one of those people. We have lots of secrets. He is my main confidant for a reason, Lassie. He would never put us on the spot like that. Listen, he cares a lot for me. Loves me. Because he cares for me, Gus also, by extension, cares and loves you too, Lassie. He won't hurt anyone he cares for. We both are within that boundary. We're safe, okay? This can keep being our dirty little secret." </p><p>Lassiter's grip in Shawn's shirt tightens before it loosens, then tightens again as Carlton grips the fabric in his fist and surges forward. His lips are ghosting over Shawn's. He pulls back and tilts the man's head to look him in the eyes. "It won't be forever." </p><p>"Yeah, I'm sure it won't," Shawn says, resignation in his voice. He claps Lassiter on the back twice before smoothly slipping away from the stunned detective. </p><p>"What do you mean by that," Carlton demands, reaching after Shawn's hand, gripping it. </p><p>"I mean just what you say; it won't be forever. It never is, Lassie." Shawn wriggles the fingers Carlton has laced between his own, away, and steps out into the convention hall. </p><p>From within the walls of the bathroom, Lassiter can hear Chief Vick announcing that she needs all of her team at center-stage in the next four minutes. He washes his hands with the hottest water possible, dries his hands, and unfolds the speech from within his blazer pocket. </p><p>The paper is crinkled and has deep indents from how it has been folded so compactedly. There at the top, in blue ink, is Shawn's handwriting. </p><p>'I believe in you, Lassie. And I believe you.' </p><p> </p><p>Later, after the speech is given, the check is handed off, and pictures are taken, Lassiter finds himself eying the bar longingly. Without the distraction of his last duties at the ball, Carlton is caught in his web of consequences. </p><p>He should have just kissed Spencer and let it go. There were no witnesses. Nobody would have been around to tell. He just got so angry and afraid, and as usual, when these feelings took over, he made the worst decisions. </p><p>He can't erase that disappointment in Shawn's face from his memory. He'd seen it when he let go of the man's hand at the table. He saw it when he pushed Spencer away after he almost went in for a kiss of his own. He saw it when the man repeated his own words back to him. </p><p>'It won't be forever.'</p><p>Carlton has to be surprised by himself; he couldn't have picked a more ominous saying for their relationship. He can't believe that all it took was holding Shawn's hand in the park to realize that they both wanted more. That picnic, with the tiki tumblers of cool pineapple smoothie and Lassie's sandwiches, are imprinted into both their minds. The feel of each other's hand is a memory they often replay and re-enact when they're alone. </p><p>For a while, on those nights where Carlton has Shawn over to watch a movie, or have dinner, or hide from his dad, they sit on the couch. Eventually, hand-holding became second nature, neither of them had to look anymore, only finding each other's unique fit by feeling alone. Carlton feels like a new man when Spencer's fingers are intertwined with his. </p><p>It's so boyish and juvenile. Such a small act of affection that brings a blush to his face. He can't stand the smile that he wants to unleash at having Spencer's hand warming his. Shawn infects his space of professionalism and tight-lippedness. With Shawn, maturity takes a backseat to unchecked thoughts and actions. Maybe that's how Shawn got to kiss Lassiter that one time. </p><p>When they broke away finally, Lassiter had only one thing to say. His blue eyes were dull in the darkness of the Psych office. </p><p>"It won't be forever." </p><p>Even now, while Shawn mingles with the other people at the ball, his only thoughts are Lassiter's words of poison. He has a cup of water in his hand. His nerves are buzzing. If he doesn't find someone to occupy his head with other words that he can actually hold onto, he will combust. It's officially dinner time now. All of the guests save their after-food faces and bellies for after all the photography shoots. He's alone on the dance floor. </p><p>Suddenly, someone wraps an arm around his shoulders and he jumps before grinning at his best friend. "Oh, hey, where's Jules?" </p><p>"She's talking with some of the people from the local public schools," Gus answers. "I heard there are pineapple chunks in a fruit salad up at the buffet table, wanna check it out?"</p><p>Shawn grins a little softer at Gus before nodding. "I also hear there are delicious meatballs to our disposal." </p><p>"Please don't mix them both." </p><p>"Can't make any promises, bud."</p><p>Across the venue, Juliet finishes up her talk with a principal at a nearest middle school and spots her partner, lingering in the background. No Shawn to be seen. She makes her way over to him. </p><p>"Hey, where's Shawn? He's been attached to your hip practically all night. I was beginning to get worried you two got glued together." </p><p>Carlton gives his partner an unamused look. </p><p>"Sorry, bad joke, bad timing. Did you wanna talk about whatever happened?" </p><p>Lassiter's eyes widen. "Nothing happened, O'Hara. I- Sha- Spencer is just realizing something. That... I'm not always the best person to be around." </p><p>Juliet frowns a little, shrugging. "I mean, nobody can handle too much of somebody else for long. Whenever Gus and I are somewhere and he starts talking nonstop about the next anti-itch creme or steroid on the market, I zone out. I normally just tell him 'look, I like hearing how your day has gone, but I don't know how to respond to everything you're saying right now but do know that I care, and I hear you.'" </p><p>"I'm... Guster in this scenario, correct," Lassiter asks, giving O'Hara an unconvinced grimace. </p><p>"Yes," Juliet says, already realizing that what she just said made no sense and didn't help at all. </p><p>"...How does any of that help me?" </p><p>"Well. So. I guess you could. Maybe, if you...  Fine. It doesn't," Juliet admits, giving her partner an apologetic half-frown half-smile. </p><p>Carlton's lips turn up a little in a smile. "You know, you're not wrong- about just talking. It's often a lot less messy than letting things just build internally. Though, doing the talking is more painful than any other method of resolution."</p><p>Juliet nods. "It can be, but with the right person, you'll eventually find that it's not as hard to talk about the serious stuff as it seems at first. I don't know what you and Shawn have, and it's not my business to but-in, but Shawn really likes you. He admires you, looks up to you both literally and metaphorically. If anything happened, I'm sure there's nothing that can drive you two apart for long. You don't have to put all your trust into him, but don't reprimand him for putting a little of his own into you." </p><p>Carlton's throat goes dry. O'Hara is always full of wisdom that Carlton lacks expertise in. She knows people as a person; Lassiter knows people as a detective. He only sees their intentions, beliefs, and desires. Her words are grounding, like Shawn's hand in his own. It feels real and strengthening. </p><p>"Thank you, Juliet," he says, grinning to his partner. "I won't. Not anymore." </p><p>Juliet puts a soft, warm hand over the man's own. "My pleasure, Carlton. Now go get him." </p><p>His brows knit together and he turns around to find that Juliet's gaze falls on the psychic. He seems to be eating pineapple chunks off of a mini plate, talking, and laughing with Gus. Lassiter enjoys the scene for a moment; every chuckle that leaves Shawn's mouth brings a bigger smile to his face. </p><p>He turns back around, grips the detective's hand softly in another silent thanks, and makes his way over to the middle of the floor. </p><p>"Oh, oh God he's coming. He's actually going over here." Shawn mutters under his breath as he sneaks glances at Lassiter's incoming figure. </p><p>"You can't avoid him forever, Shawn. He's the one driving you home," Gus reminds his friend. </p><p>"It won't be forever," Lassiter's voice mocks from inside Shawn's skull. </p><p>"Guster. Spencer." </p><p>The psychic doesn't even hide his eye roll. "Lassiter. Ooo! Are we doing our first names next or our favorite color? I'll go first. Mine's blurpink; it's a combination of blue, purple, and pink." </p><p>Gus looks over to the detective, "Let's get something straight here, Detective Lassiter. It was weird when you were actively pining after my little sister. I still want to kick your ass for that. But whatever you have with Shawn is tolerable, and having him bug you to watch movies on work nights rather than me, has given me a 15% boost in sales. So, you two are going to talk it out, or strangle each other, whatever needs to be done, and I will keep my sleep and you two will... keep doing that- I guess." </p><p>"Or-" Carlton drawls out the word. He hadn't even meant to ask- it just slipped out. </p><p>"Or? Or nothing. You don't have a choice," Gus glares at the man. </p><p>"Oh, well... I'm just used to there being some sort of threat after all that. It makes it more powerful and believable. Puts a fire under someone's feet." Carlton looks between the two exasperated men. "What?" </p><p>"It was worth a try, Gus, thank you, but I think Lassie has already made up his mind on how long he expects it to last." Spencer's eyes are cold and cutting as he darts them towards Carlton. </p><p>"That is not what I meant-" </p><p>"I know what you meant, Lassie. Trust me. I understood the day that we held hands at the park what this all means to you. How painful it is for you to be around me and how you've had an expiration date in mind for months now. Really, this isn't necessary." </p><p>Lassiter shakes his head. "You aren't letting me speak, Shawn. What do I have to do to make you listen to me rather than always get on the defense whenever we talk about anything?" </p><p>"Oh-ho- so I'm the defensive one? Who's the one who always walks around like a brick wall, pushing everyone away? All you ever do is live in fear that you'll find something good because you're afraid of what it takes to keep it. You want so much, but when someone is willing to try and reach out- you tell them off and scream in their face. You grab them and then push them away. I'll tell you why you can't have love in your life, Carlton; it's because you love your pride and your job and your reputation so much more than anyone- even yourself. Especially yourself." </p><p>"It's sad how much you hate yourself, Lassie. You're a pretty decent guy."</p><p>Lassiter takes a deep breath. His heart is drumming an uncomfortable rhythm in his chest and neck. </p><p>"It isn't what you think, Shawn," he starts slowly, "You're right; I hide away. I hide you away. I hid everything so well that I didn't know it was even there. I do value those things above everything else and that's something that I'm only just now beginning to realize that I need to confess. But it- isn't what you think. 'It' doesn't mean our relationship, Shawn. I'm not saying that our relationship is some ticking time-bomb that is bound to end everything any second and only I know the code." </p><p>Shawn is silent; Lassiter has never directly called what they have, a relationship. He looks at Gus for a moment, before looking back at the detective as he continues. </p><p>"When I mean 'it' I mean the secrecy. The hiding. The pushing away. The distance. The ten thousand other things we do to make sure that what we have is only ours to know- it's not going to be forever. I'm- I don't have the resources yet to make that decision- or announcement, but Shawn I promise you that I will. One day, we won't have to be careful. It's wrong of me to hide you, but I need time. Please. Give me a little more time." </p><p>Nobody has ever heard Lassiter be so sincere. Shawn looks at the man, searching his eyes for a tell or some sort of sign that he's making it all up. He doesn't know what to say. If he gives Carlton more time, then the likelihood that the man will just realize that one day he can find better than Shawn and leave him will always be there. On the other hand, Lassie has given him so many chances and has proven to cash in on his promises. </p><p>That night after Shawn kissed him, Lassiter made a strict guideline. Under no circumstances can he (Shawn) ever kiss Carlton in public. The detective banned all forms of public displays of affection. Shawn felt a little defeated, always thinking about walking hand-in-hand with Santa Barbara's hottest, Irish sex god of a detective. He agreed anyways. Especially when Lassiter leans in to give him an uncertain peck and mumbles the rest of the conditions. </p><p>"You can kiss me whenever you want when we're here. We're safe here, right?" </p><p>"This is a safe space, Carlytown," Shawn hummed, earning a warning glare from his boyfriend. "And deal. When does it start?" </p><p>"Uh- well n-" Carlton couldn't finish his sentence, cut off by Spencer's immediate reaction to the new rules. </p><p>In the present, Shawn has been staring off into space for a long minute. Gus huffs. "Just give the man some time, Shawn." </p><p>Carlton looks over at Gus, makes eye contact for a moment, then drops it back to Shawn and the floor. </p><p>"No..." Lassiter says shortly after. "Shawn... Spencer has given me plenty enough, already. If he doesn't want to, then he doesn't have to." </p><p>"Just shut up," Shawn says in a low voice, the faraway look in his eyes, fading. </p><p>"Did you say-" </p><p>"Shut up, Lassie-sap. Your little speech just clogged my brain with all that softness." Shawn gives a small smirk to Lassiter.</p><p>Lassiter fights back a grin and rolls his eyes. "Did my little speech work? Have I- was I able to convince you to stay?" </p><p>"Well, I suppose I could put aside some time in my busy schedule to allow you some room," Shawn teases. </p><p>"Thank you," Carlton strokes Shawn's chin, before withdrawing and clearing his throat. </p><p>"Don't mention it," Shawn says, smiling. He then turns to Gus. "We should go dance now." He grabs both the detective's and his best friend's arms and drags them onto the actual dance floor where some people are dancing a little. </p><p>"Is this the cha-cha slide? Man, I saw a video on YouTube of someone dancing to this at a wedding! We gotta do it!" </p><p> </p><p>Several long minutes later, following a cupid shuffle, wobble, and electric slide, the three are laughing at each other, making fun of how the other performed the 'get down low' part of the cha-cha slide. </p><p>"How the hell are you still able to do that, Guster?" Lassiter laughs amongst his question. </p><p>"I have amazing joints, Lassiter. Always use them, so I don't lose them." Gus flares his suit jacket cockily. </p><p>"You know, Lassie, I think I saw your move in one of my dad's old police training videos he used to show me when I was little," Shawn jokes, only somewhat. </p><p>"Shawn, I'm pretty sure flopping to the ground isn't the correct way to 'get down low', either." </p><p>"Ha! You tell him, Guster," Carlton holds out a fist to Gus without really thinking about it. </p><p>"You know that's right," Gus smirks, giving Carlton a fist-bump back. </p><p>After a moment, the two realize what they just did and awkwardly brush their clothes off. </p><p>"Well, that was almost as traumatizing as hearing my dad call my mom Dr. Spencer in a not-so-professional-seeking voice." </p><p>"I'm going to go find, Juliet. See you two, later." Gus disappears into the crowd and the two remaining men watch for a moment. The heaviness from before is back and lingers amongst the moments of badly-choreographed dancing. </p><p>"Do you want to call it a night?" Carlton quickly backtracks from the look this question earns him, alone. "I mean- if you want. We can stay; I don't mind staying. I just want to know what you want to do." </p><p>"Asking me directly, huh, Lassie? I'm very proud of you." There isn't a hint of sarcasm in Shawn's voice. "I would like to stay if you wouldn't mind." </p><p>"I don't mind at all," Carlton says, looping the man's arm in his own. "I would like that as well." </p><p>Shawn beams up at the detective; his eyes glow in the artificial light of the overhead galaxy. Carlton thinks about running his fingers through Spencer's brown hair and holding him closer. He looks around and finds that nobody is staring at them, or gawking. Everyone is in their own little world. And, going by the peaceful, almost cat-like grin on Shawn's face, the man has his own too. </p><p>It's their own world, a fragile, new one. </p><p>Lassiter closes the gap between them and brings Shawn in closer. From beneath the detective's blazer, his heart thumps erratically, earning a soft squeeze from Shawn. </p><p>"It won't be forever," he says this time, waiting for Lassiter's reaction. </p><p>Carlton looks down at the psychic's expectant hazel eyes and nods, leaning his head against the man's. "It won't be forever."</p><p>For a moment, the two remain in this impenetrable bubble of safety and comfort. Then, Shawn's eyes shoot open and he picks his head up fast enough to knock it painfully against Lassiter's.</p><p>"Ow- Shawn- what-" </p><p>"Sorry, Lassie-sap, the dance floor calls for me!" He wiggles out of Carlton's arms and goes running towards the middle. </p><p>"I love this song!" </p><p>Carlton shakes his head and grins into his palm before going after Shawn into the crowd that's already singing and dancing along to the song. </p><p>Shawn makes eye contact with Lassiter as he exaggerates his facial expressions while lip-syncing in time with the song. When the chorus hits, he's jumping up and down and screaming to the top of his lungs. </p><p>"The spaceman says, everybody look down. It's all in your mind." Shawn grabs his temples and scrunches up his face. The second bridge comes in and Shawn starts dancing towards Carlton. The detective hopes that the heat he feels in his neck and cheeks isn't visible on his body. </p><p>"Well now I'm back at home, and I'm looking forward to this life I live.<br/>
You know its gonna haunt me, so hesitation to this life I give. You think you might cross over. You're caught between the devil and the deep blue sea." </p><p>He continues his over-animated singing, dancing circles around Carlton who is taking in the lyrics with just a little more introspection than might be healthy. </p><p> </p><p>"And you know I'm fine, but I hear those voices at night, sometimes. They justify my claim." </p><p>It's there, halfway through the chorus, that Carlton realizes for the second time, that nobody is judging them. Not a single soul is paying any mind to the couple as one half of them dances and prances and flails around. He watches Shawn sing loudly to all of the parts of the song, not just the ones that everyone knows. When all other voices of the crowd fade with the uncertainty of the lyrics, Shawn remains strong and powerful. It makes Lassiter grin. </p><p>He comes to life and begins to dance actively with Shawn as the song goes into the chorus for another time following a slower, more subdued melody. He and Spencer jump up and down in the crowd and sing the lyrics with the confidence of drunken men. Unapologetically loud, sometimes tripping up on words, and with a smattering of self-aware laughter. </p><p>Shawn is surprised, not expecting the detective to be able to cut this loose. He likens Lassie to a puppet with tight strings. He's so rigid, even in his tender touches like hugs. Right now, there's a spark behind those blue eyes, crinkling around the edges from actually, genuinely smiling. His tie jumps around on his chest with every movement, and he feels breathless and tired and alive in a way that only being with Shawn Spencer can make him. </p><p>Even as the song fades and people resort to just singing rather than dancing, Shawn and Carlton's voices rise above the rest as they belt out every last lyric. They catch each other acting as if they're auditioning for American Duos and find themselves smiling. </p><p>Those doubts will return; they'll find themselves always wondering when everything will come crashing down or crumbling beneath them. For now, it won't be forever, and the insecurities that Shawn and Carlton project onto each other are far away. They feel unfettered in knowing that this is real, and everything else that contradicts it can fade away. </p><p>"It's all in my mind," they sing as the song ends, and Carlton has Shawn in his arms. There aren't any large neon signs pointing for people to look; nobody is recording them. Carlton is just Shawn's and Shawn is just Carlton's. In the darkness of the settling dancefloor, Lassiter kisses Shawn soundly on the lips and the world doesn't erupt into gasps. Still, even as it lasts a few, anxiety-inducing seconds, no one is paying attention. </p><p>The only thing that pulls the two men from their fantasy world where only each other exists is the abrupt applause and cheering from the crowd. There's no need to do that. The Killers aren't there on the stage performing. Perhaps Carlton's confusion is written on his recently, temporarily unmasked face. </p><p>"They're just buzzed and restless, Lassie. The song does end pretty slowly, so they needed to get that last burst of energy out somehow." </p><p>Lassiter nods then hollers and whoops himself. Shawn laughs and goes 'yeah, Lassie' before joining him. The crowd begins cheering and making assorted excited noises again. </p><p>This continues until everyone begins dancing and singing along to the next song. Carlton and Shawn take their leave from the dance floor and find Gus and Juliet at the same spot from before. </p><p>"You guys look like you're having fun," Juliet says, not at all masking her excitement. "Shawn, did you get Carlton to dance?" </p><p>"I can't take all the credit, Jules. After all, there are very few types who can't dance along to Spaceman in some way. Thank The Killers." Shawn grabs around his boyfriend's shoulders and squeezes. </p><p>Carlton shakes his head half-heartedly and smirks to himself. "He has a point." </p><p>"So, what do you all say we ditch this place before the Chief remembers we're on clean-up duty," Shawn says, looping his arms around the other three in a huddle. He starts walking them nonchalantly towards the double door exit of the event hall. Overhead, they're exiting the solar system at top speed. The only planet that remains is Pluto right outside the doors. Freedom. </p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>"Let's do it."</p><p>Without another spoken word, all four of them take off like they're being chased down by a perp into the parking lot. It's only in the safety of Lassiter's car as they head down the road, with the convention center in the rearview mirror, that they burst into a round of laughter. </p><p>Suddenly, a revelation hits Carlton out of nowhere. He turns to Shawn. </p><p>"Spencer?" </p><p>"Yeah, Lass?" </p><p>"Where did you get so much glitter?" </p><p>"Ex-squeeze me," Shawn blinks confusedly at Lassiter. </p><p>"New Year- I know the glitter rain debacle was because of you." There's no malice in Carlton's voice. </p><p>"Oh..." </p><p>"Oh."</p><p>"That."</p><p>"Yeah." </p><p>"... I wuv you Lassie-kins." </p><p>"Eat glass, disco ball," Lassiter says, no vitriol to be found in his tone. </p><p>"That's cannibalism. And no need to be rude, Pepsiman." </p><p>"Consider it me learning to loosen up, Spencer." </p><p>"Sure thing, Lassiter. Oh, can we stop for some cake on the way home? I'm kind of bummed that we couldn't stay long enough for that, but I think a pineapple upside-down cake will make me a lot happier." </p><p>"Anything to keep your hole shut, Shawn." </p><p>"Love you too, Lassie." </p><p>"Love you, Shawn."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading once again! Comments are my fuel, so if you would like to see more from me in the future, please leave a little encouragement. Trust me when I say a little goes a long way.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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